


When in doubt...pancakes

by TooManyChoices



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pancakes, Pre-Slash, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyChoices/pseuds/TooManyChoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does a consulting detective do when he's had an argument with his flat-mate? He makes pancakes...obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When in doubt...pancakes

"You're still here.....and you're making pancakes?" John stood in the doorway surveying the room they laughingly still referred to as their kitchen.

Given the plethora of toxic experiments that Sherlock invariably conducted on the table, actual cooking had become a rarity making what was currently happening all the more unlikely.

"Very good John. Nice to see you still have the ability to state the obvious when presented with it."

"You've made.....a **LOT** of pancakes."

'A lot' is what people call an inexact descriptor. When talking about blood, 'a lot' may be considered a pint or two, if your own perhaps as little as a teaspoonful. However, if one is describing seawater, 'a lot' may be a volume the size of a lake or an ocean. Relative.....it's all relative.

In this case, we're talking about opinions on 'a lot' of pancakes, and in particular, John Watson's opinion. And in his opinion......stacks of no less than six, butted up against each other and covering every flat surface constituted 'a lot'.

He stood, watching as Sherlock expertly tossed yet another disc of batter into the air, seeing it flip end over end before returning to the pan, tan topside now facing up.

"WHY???" The question was exhaled as much as spoken, the whistle of air extending the word as John's face contorted in familiar confusion.

Sherlock paused, spatula held limply in his left hand, pan in the right. "I began with the supposition that after our discussion..."

"It was an argument Sherlock....we were arguing."

There was a terse nod from the detective, "....alright, argument. After our 'argument' the appropriate demonstration of regret would be to ensure you had a warm breakfast when you arrived home, preferably something you could consume with your jam. Hence......pancakes."

John looked around at the arrayed stacks. A fond smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. For Sherlock to have considered an apology necessary was one thing, to actually take the time to implement a plan was almost unheard of. "Ummm...how angry did you think I was, to need all these?"

"Ah, well. I found once I got started, there was an unacceptable variability in size, shade, regularity of shape. I may...." He looked around and seemed to, for the first time, notice just how many pancakes he'd made, ".......I may have gotten carried away....slightly."

"Slightly..." John grinned up at his partner, dropping his shopping bags in the doorway. Sherlock could be stubborn, insufferable and rude. However, there was a delightful simplicity to him sometimes. You just needed to know what made Sherlock Holmes tick, and John did.

It was all in the way Sherlock focussed. Most of the time, Sherlock's expansive mind would be processing three..four...fifteen things at a time and so long as they were all deemed important to him, all was well. But find something that truly captured his attention and like a toddler dropping an old toy to clutch at a new one, everything else was pushed aside.

To be fair, the habit had infuriated John as much as anyone else for years until he stumbled, quite by accident on the one thing that was guaranteed to capture Sherlock's focus to the exclusion of everything else.

That thing....that one thing, was John Watson.

Sometimes it was clothing choices, at others it might be the way he drank his tea, or the particular way he'd fallen asleep in his chair, or a question he asked Sherlock about a case. Often it was subtle, and Sherlock would be absorbed in the exact nature of a headache John was suffering, or deducing ways to make John happy after a hard day. But the common factor was always John. John could hold his attention in a way nothing else could.

As John Watson stood in front of the only consulting detective in the world....his consulting detective, and although Sherlock may never realise it, John saw the stacks of pancakes for what they truly were...

The pancakes were love.


End file.
